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copyright DEPOSIT. 



JERSEY JINGLES 



JERSEY JINGLES 



BY 

LEONARD H. ROBBINS 



Pictures by Louis Wisa 



NEWARK 
NEW JERSEY 

1907 






LIBRARY «f CONGRESS 
TwotepiM Rk«v»c 

DEC 23 l 907 

Copyrif nt intry 
ClASSA XXc. IW. 

'copy b. 



Copyright 1907 
By LEONARD H. ROBBINS 



Hena &ntf)onp fobbing 



PREFACE 

The jingles in this book appeared first in the " Newark 
Evening News," and aroused astonishment in the minds of 
many readers that Mr. Wallace M. Scudder should turn 
lyrist after successfully concealing a bent in that direction 
for so many years. To rescue that genial publisher from 
unjust suspicion the verses are assembled here under the 
name of the person really to blame. 

To Mr. John Cotton Dana, head of the Newark Free 
Public Library, the author would apologize for seeming to 
take advantage of Mr. Dana's historic appeal for New 
Jersey literature. The jingles were written as part of the 
day's work in a busy newspaper office, and were not meant 
to be literary. 

For critics who have no time to give the book the 
extended attention it merits, some reviews and notices 
have been prepared, ranging from the honeyed to the gall- 
ing, together with numerous anecdotes, authentic and 
otherwise, of the author's earlv life, bright sayings, and so 
forth, any or all of which will be supplied cheerfully on 
application. 

L. H. R. 



CONTENTS 



Preface 

The Children 

One Night . 

Little Beggar 

Miss Pattycake . 

The Naughty-cal Child 

At the Hospital . 

An Improvised Lullaby 

Red Riding-Hood 

A Sunday Slumber Song 

Chubby-hand 

The Wicked Elephant 

The Peacemaker . 

The Weary Gull. 

Fellow Sufferers . 

The Papa-Hen . 
Why did he Blush? 
A Bow of White 
The New Learning 
Good Night, Little Child 
Hide-and-Seek 
The Toilers 

Morning and Evening 

The Generation's Debt 

When Dad was Fired 

The Bauble Seller 

Out of Work 

Steam Tugs 

Mary's Chance 

Sentiment and Shop 

Grammar and Goodness 

Wages 

His Side Partner . 



PAGE 

vii 



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12 

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J 3 
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J 5 
15 
16 

17 
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21 
21 

22 
23 

24 



2 6 
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3° 
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32 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Head-Winds . . . . . . . . -33 

"The Beaten Breeds" 33 

Wanted 34 

Friends . . . . . . . . . -35 

Beyond the Mountain 

Lonely .......... 39 

The Country Church ........ 40 

Half-Saints . . 40 

The 'Vangelist 41 

The Divided Church 42 

Home to Jersey ......... 43 

Those Summer Boarders . . . . .44 

Advertising Signs ........ 46 

The Hopatcong Pickerel 47 

Romance in Cold Storage ....... 48 

Joyville's County Fair ........ 50 

Two Miles a Minute . . . . . . . 52 

The Country is Safe 53 

The Christmas Box . . . . . . . .53 

Summer's End . . . . . . . . -55 

Around the Circle 

Bulletins 59 

April 59 

Spring Music ......... 60 

In May .......... 60 

The Morning Light ........ 60 

Spring Fever . . . . . . . . .61 

June Roses . . . . . . . . . .61 

Summer Starlight . . . . . . . . .61 

Indian Summer . . . . . . . . .61 

October .......... 62 

Bonfire Time . 62 

Twilight 62 

Dawn in November ........ 63 

Affinity .... 63 

Misery in Company ........ 64 

Always .......... 64 



THE CHILDREN 




ONE NIGHT 

Us kids sat on the steps one night 

Long after supper. Father said we might 

If we'd be good and quiet and not make 

A noise, 'cause mother was awake 

Indoors, and wasn't very well. And so 

We sat out there and watched the moon 

The longest time. And pretty soon 

He took us in, and there the foldin'-bed 

Was all made down — "For company," father said, 

"But you can have it for to-night" — and we 

Was just as tickled as two kids can be. 

Then father gave us each a good-night kiss from her, 

And went awav, and told us not to stir. 



We didn't talk — just lay there whisperin' low, 

And Jimmie went to sleep, and so 

Did I ; or I was just a-goin' to 

When, all at once, first thing you know, 



JERSEY JINGLES 



A horse came clappin' down the street 

And stopped right out in front, and stomped his feet, 

And there was people talkin' at the door 

And walkin' round, and then I didn't know no more — 

No more till some one raised the shade 
And let the sunlight in; and we was 'fraid 




'Cause 'twasn't any one we knowed. Her dress 
Was blue, and when she'd soothered us I guess 
We wasn't much scared, after all; and we, 
We said, "Are you the company ? " 

She only laughed and led us both away 

To mother's room, all dark, where mother lay 



THE CHILDREN 



With somepin on her arm. And mother smiled 

So sweet, and let us look — and what d'you think it was ! 

Well, Jimmie cried, of course, 

But I ran quick, a-lookin' for that horse ! 

LITTLE BEGGAR 

Hungry little beggar, knockin' at the door, 

Hungry little sinner, 

Cryin' for his dinner, 
Enter, little feller, you needn't beg no more. 

Bashful little beggar, blushin' rosy red, 

Timid-like and shrinking 

Little eyes a-blinkin', 
Here, little feller, is a place to hide your head. 

Lonely little beggar, all the world so new, 

World so full of danger, 

Every one a stranger, 
Welcome, little feller, here's a home for you. 

MISS PATTYCAKE 
Little Miss Pattycake, dear is she 

To the tall and terrible baker man. 
He bakes her beautiful cakes for tea, 
And all the return requireth he 

Is the secret sign of the baker clan, 

" Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker man." 
Little Miss Pattycake pats her hands, 
Waves her arms in a curious way; 



JERSEY JINGLES 



The baker man sees, and he understands 
And runs to answer her sweet commands. 
Sister and brother in lodge are they, 
Pattycake dear and the baker man. 

Little Miss Pattycake tossed one night, 

Weary and wasted and fever-worn, 
And her baby hands so thin and white 
Patted and played in the softened light, 

Over the coverlet played till morn — 
Pattycake dreamed of the baker man. 
The East grew bright as the watchers wept; 

The mother knelt by the bed and prayed, 
Till into her heart new hoping crept — 
The arms were still, and the baby slept. 

No longer in dreams the dear hands played 
At " Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker man." 

Now is the lodgeroom gay once more 

(Nursery call it, or what you will), 
Twice as gay as it was before, 
And little Miss Pattycake has the floor. 

Salaam ! to Pattycake, waving still, 

"Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker man. " 
Yes, Miss Pattycake pats her hands, 

Waves and laughs in the way of old, 
And the baker's heart with joy expands 
To toil once more, as her sign commands, 

For a smile that is dearer to him than gold — 
Pattycake' s smile to the baker man. 



THE CHILDREN 



THE NAUGHTY-CAL CHILD 

A bathroom's the pleasantest kind of a playroom 

That money or love can buy. 
The nursery's only a sort of a lay room, 

So ho ! for the bath, say I ! 
I sail my sheep on the bathtub deep, 

Sunk is my wee wool cosset, 
And drowned is the doll with the flaxen poll 

In a tidal wave from the faucet. 




My Noah's ark is the color of mud, 

A4ost of its glue is gone, 
Yet high it floats on the raging flood 

And ferries the animals on. 
The crimson cow and the blue bow-wow, 

Their hearts' blood dyes the main, 
But safe and fast they will anchor at last 

In the Port of Porcelain. 



JERSEY JINGLES 



Treacherous things are bathroom tides, 

For lost is my rubbery doll; 
My raggedy rabbit is missing, besides; 

I cannot find them at all. 
My father has sworn since early morn, 

His wrath is a sight to see; 
He has sent for the plumber to hasten and come 

And find them again for me. 

The bathroom's the pleasantest kind of a place 

For a nautical child like me, 
And there again shall the animals race 

And the hair-brush go to sea. 
I'll sail my sheep on the soapy deep, 

And none shall me deny. 
'Tis the rush of the waves my spirit craves, — 

Ho ! for the bath, say I ! 



AT THE HOSPITAL 

We can't afford a doctor, sir, this year, 
And that's the reason why I bring her here. 
You needn't frown; I know how wrong it is 
To take a baby out a day like this. 
But, sir! could you stand idle by 
And see her suffer? Nor could I. 

A week ago, all sunny-like, she played 
Around me as I worked — my little maid. 



THE CHILDREN 



She just can walk; the baby shoes she wore 
Made music, tappin' on the kitchen floor; 
And everywhere I went, why, she went, too, 
To help me with the things I had to do. 

But now the sunshine's gone. She doesn't smile, 
She doesn't even try; for all the while 
Her head is burnin' hot; and you can see, 
The way her eyes look beggin' up to me, 
How sick she is. And so I've come to you, 
And maybe you can tell me what to do. 

Leave her, you say? Leave her and go away? 

\ou know the best. But may I come each day, 

An hour or so, to sit beside her bed 

And watch her in the weeks ahead? 

I cannot help? Then you will let me know 

In time — if — ? Thank you, sir. I love her so! 



AN IMPROVISED LULLABY 

Some one's eyes are bluest blue, 
Some one's eyes are sleepy, too, 
Sleepy, too, and oh! so blue; 

Sleep, dearie, do. 
Some one's eyelids fall and fall, 
Open wide, then softly fall, 
Some one's sleepy, after all; 
I wonder who? 



JERSEY JINGLES 



Here's the sandman with his sand. 
Some one has the roundest hand ; 
Let mother take it and 

Hold it warm and tight. 
Father, dear, I wish you'd go 
Turn the bedroom gaslight low. 
My ! how the wind does blow 

Outdoors to-night ! 

Some one riding went to-day 
In her go-cart, down the way, 
Saw the older children play 

All round the block. 
Some one saw a doggy run, 
Saw him romping in the sun, 
Some one thought it lots of fun — 

Stop, stop the clock. 

Some one's eyes are bluest blue, 
Some one's eyes are sleepy, too, 
Some one played the whole day through, 

Played, played, played. 
Some one's drifting off to rest, 
Some one mother loves the best; 
Some one's ready for her nest, 

Little weary maid. 



THE CHILDREN 



RED RIDING-HOOD 

Little Red Riding-Hood joys to-day 

In a crimson bonnet and crimson shoon 
And a crimson cloak as ruddily gay 

As the reddest rose of the month of June. 
Grandmother's hands, with love to guide, 

Have made these marvels exceeding fair, 
And Little Red Riding-Hood thrills with pride 

As she views herself in the mirror there. 

Little Red Riding-Hood goes to stroll 

In her crimson coat and her crimson shoes, 
Quaint little figure, strange and droll 

As she wanders away in those radiant hues. 
White was her cloak but yesterday, 

And pearly white was the hood she wore, 
But now she wanders away, away — 

Little Red Riding-Hood, baby no more. 



A SUNDAY SLUMBER SONG 

Hushabye, my deary, sandman coming soon, 
Father's gone to slumber, for its Sunday afternoon. 
Here's a stick of candy, and there's your woolly sheep, 
Softly play at mother's side while father goes to sleep. 

All the week has father toiled to buy the baby shoes; 
Sunday, then, we let him do whatever he may choose. 



io JERSEY JINGLES 

So gently build your block house and softly sail your ships, 
Father's gone to dreamland with a smile upon his lips. 

Father's gone to bye-low, and little girls and boys 
Should not raise their voices or disturb him with a noise, 
For by and by, when father wakes, maybe he will be 
In a better humor toward his loving family. 



CHUBBY-HAND 

Once was the parlor white, 
Of purest enamel ray, 

Once was the bookroom polished bright, 

Polished and rubbed till it dazzled the sight- 
But that was another day. 

Table, piano, cabinet, chair, 

Many a curious mark they bear 

Since Chubby-hand came to stay. 

Whose is the work on the pane — 

Palm prints all in a row? 
Who, when grown folk pass in the lane, 
Patteth the glass with might and main, 

Cheering them on as they go? 
Out in the rain they trudge along — 
Who is it turns their sighs to song? 

Chubby-hand, do you know? 



THE CHILDREN n 

Who on the bookcase door 

A private sign has set? 
Chubby-hand, weary of babehood lore, 
Has longed and grasped for a guarded store 

She may not delve in yet. 
Better for her are books that endure, 
Irish linen literature 

And the animal alphabet. 

Who, when the curtains are drawn 

And low is the bedroom light, 
Steals away to the sundown lawn 
To bide with beautiful birds till dawn 

And flowers blooming bright? 
Who, in a quiet hour like this, 
Offers a palm for a last soft kiss? 

Chubby-hand, good night. 



THE WICKED ELEPHANT 
Narrative by Richard Montague 

As I was a-walkin' one day yin the walk 
That runs by the side uv our house, 

I saw a big ellerphint, tawful big ellerphint, 
Eatin' a poor little mouse. 

I hollered, "Go 'way!" an' the ellerphint cried, 
An' I shooted him quick wif mv gun, 



12 



JERSEY JINGLES 



An' the ellerphint run, an' he run, an' he run, 
An' he run, an' he run, an' he run — 




Till he corned to the barn, an' he got up on top, 
An' his knees was all muddy an' tore; 

An' he said, "Little boy, if you'll please let me go, 
I will never do so any more." — Now you tell 
me a story. 



THE PEACEMAKER 

Was eatin' breakfast yesterday, with a face most awful long, 
The way I always do, I guess, when everything goes wrong. 
The wife was sittin' over there, all lonely and forsook, 
But I wouldn't speak a civil word or give a pleasant look, 
Till at my knee a little hand came pattin', softy-like, 
And the babe was standin' by my chair, the purty little tyke, 



THE CHILDREN 13 

A-smilin' this here message as plain as plain can be : — 
"You may seem a bear to mother, but you can't scare 
me." 

With all that goodness beamin' from those baby eyes of 

brown, 
'Twasn't no use a-holdin' back or tryin' for to frown. 
That smile of his, 'twould melt a heart of harder flint than 

mine; 
Just like the sun it cleared away the shadders with its shine; 
And feelin' kinder foolish-like, not knowin' what to do, 
I let go all the grouch I had, and I was smilin', too. 
And then he flashed this message so I couldn't help but 

see : — 
"You'd better smile to mother, 'cause you've smiled to 

me." 

THE WEARY GULL 

The sea-gull flies on weary wing; 

He has no tree or anything 

To rest on when he needs to sing. 



FELLOW SUFFERERS 

The beach and I are clean and white; 
We both are washed at fall of night. 
Last evening, in my room alone 
I listened, and I heard it moan. 



14 



JERSEY JINGLES 



THE PAPA-HEN 

The mamma-hen sets up in a nest, 
An' pretty soon they's an egg, 

But the papa-hen he swells his chest 
And kicks the sand wif his leg. 




The papa-hen finds a worm or a crumb 

And hollers, "Quick! quick! quick!" 

But he eats it hisself when the mamma-hens come, 
Or else it's only a stick. 



I bet you if I was the papa-hen, 

So han'some an' big an' stout, 

I'd lay eggs once in a while, an' then 
Have somethin' to holler about ! 



THE CHILDREN 15 



WHY DID HE BLUSH? 

I saw him push a baby-cart 

Along the park one day. 
The cart was empty ; near at hand 

The baby ran at play. 
Quoth I, " Good friend, 'twill soon be time 

To put the cart away." 
I know not what it was I said 
That turned his face so rosy red. 

" Your little girl, who grows so fast, 

No longer needs to ride. 
'Twill soon be time," I said again, 

"To lay the cart aside." 
He tried to smile but looked away 

His blushing face to hide. 
I wonder what it was I said 
That turned his cheek so rosy red. 



A BOW OF WHITE 

A white face watching the street, 

A face that can smile no more; 

A softened tread of schoolboy feet, 
A bow of white at the door. 



16 JERSEY JINGLES 



THE NEW LEARNING 

They taught him how to hemstitch, and they taught him 

how to sing, 
And how to make a basket out of variegated string, 
And how to fold a paper so he wouldn't hurt his thumb — 
They taught a lot to Bertie, but he 

couldn't 

do a 

sum. 

They taught him how to mold the head of Hercules in 

clay, 
And how to tell the difference 'twixt the bluebird and the 

And how to sketch a horsie in a little picture-frame — 
But, strangely, they forgot to teach him 

how to 

spell his 

name. 

Now, Bertie's pa was crabbed, and he went, one day, to 

find 
What 'twas they did to make his son so backward in the 

mind. 
u I don't want Bertie wrecked," he cried, in temper far 

from cool, 
" I want him educated ! " So he 

took him 

out of 

school. 



THE CHILDREN 



*7 



GOOD NIGHT, LITTLE CHILD 

Good night, little child, 

So weary, so weary 
With dancing all day, 
With patter and play; 
In dreamland are flowers 
And birds in the bowers, 

They wait for their dearie. 
Good night, little child. 

Good night, little friend, 

So weary, so weary 
With laughing away 
The cares of our day, 
The gloom and the sorrow — 
Rest now till to-morrow, 

Sweet dreams to my dearie. 
Good night, little friend. 

Good night, little child, 

Good rest to my dearie. 

Soon, smiling and bright 

As the morning light, 

Thou shalt waken from dreaming 

To laughing and beaming. 
So weary, so weary, 

Good night, little child. 



i8 JERSEY JINGLES 



HIDE-AND-SEEK 

'Twas a laughing child with dancing feet 

Ran to the end of the world, 
Far to the bend of a city street ; 

And there, in a corner curled, 
Safe from eyes that would pry and peek, 

Nestling close to the sheltering wall, 
It lay, in the game of hide-and-seek, 

Till it heard its playmates call: 
"Come in, come in, 
Wherever you are ' ' — 

And the laughing child went in. 

From the gate of heaven a little child 

Wandered away to the world, 
Ran to a woman mother-mild, 

Snug in her bosom curled. 
Safe? Ah, no! The woman's cheek 

Tears of bitterest sorrow paled. 
With the angels the child played hide-and-seek, 

An angel playmate hailed : 
" Come in, come in, 
Wherever you are " — 

And the little child went in. 



THE TOILERS 



TKe To i I e r*vS 




MORNING AND EVENING 

With head erect and brave, determined eyes 

He goes to work each morning, and he dares 

The world to bow that neck or pierce that guise 
Or bend him 'neath the burden that he bears. 

When day is done, with heavy head he goes, 
Within his eyes no spark of purpose then; 

His all is given, and only this he knows, 
That in the morning he will try again. 



THE GENERATION'S DEBT 

Far on a mountain crest ahead 

A battle roared. 
Low in the vale the many strove; 
The few attained the heights above 
Where Fame, her shining wings outspread, 

Alluring soared. 



22 JERSEY JINGLES 

An old man fell, by Fame ignored, 

His striving done. 
He saw a younger waiting nigh, 
He heard the far-off battle-cry. 
"Stay not," he said. "Gird on my sword, 

God speed you, son!" 

Ah, youth to victory assigned, 

Toss not your head ; 
Prize not too low that rich bequest ! 
For you that gain the mountain crest 
Fight but the cause of one behind, 

Unknown and dead. 



WHEN DAD WAS FIRED 

When dad was fired — 
One Sat'day night it was, 
An' both us kids was hollerin' becos 
Next day we'd have him all the time to play 
An' romp, an' go a-walkin' out, the way 
We alius do on Sunday afternoon — 
Well, dad got home that night an hour too soon 
An' hung aroun' outside the longest while. 
Then he came in, an' stood an' didn't smile, 
Just stood there, lookin' sorrowful an' tired, 

An' said, "I'm fired." 






THE TOILERS 23 



Us kids that day 
Was early put to bed, 

An' when dad kissed us, why he turned his head 
So as we wouldn't know his face was wet. 
An' mother came an' told us not forget 
To say our prayers, an' she kneeled down beside, 
An' we was sorry, 'cos she almost cried. 
Then she went back to dad, an' way at night 
They still was talkin' by the table light. 
An' Sunday came, an' when we tried to play, 

Dad looked away. 

When dad was fired — 
It seems a long time now; 
I can't remember when, but anyhow, 
One day he came a-flyin' up the stairs, 
Three at a time, like Billy when he dares. 
An' mother dropped her iron, an' kid an' me, 
We wondered why she ran so quick to see. 
Then dad bust in an' hugged us 'most in half, 
An' mother cried, although she tried to laugh. 
An' we cried, too — an' that's how dad got fired 
An' then got hired. 



THE BAUBLE SELLER 

"Whirligigs, whistles, whips! " 
A call in a morning street, 
And children dance to meet, 



24 JERSEY JINGLES 

Follow and look and long. 
"Whirligigs, whistles, whips" — 
Strong as a siren song. 

"Whirligigs, whistles, whips!" 
Fainter and far away ; 
And the children still obey, 

Follow and look and long. 
"Whirligigs, whistles, whips" — 
Gone is the seller's song. 

"Whirligigs, whistles, whips" — 
Pleasure and fame and power; 
And men to the sunset hour 

Follow and look and long. 
"Whirligigs, whistles, whips" — 
Always the same old song. 

OUT OF WORK 

Out of a job — the sunshine overhead, 

Gay world around, and me in search of bread ! 

It ain't the same old world I used to know; 

To-day it seems that every man's my foe, 

For now I'm out of work, I've lost my stride; 

The world is close, and yet I stand outside, 

Outside the crowd, in trouble and disgrace, 

Afraid to look a mortal in the face — 

And she, with not a doubt in word or sign, 

Dependin' on a coward heart like mine! 



THE TOILERS 25 



Poor little woman, waitin' for me there, 
Somehow, if 'twa'nt for you I wouldn't care. 

Out of a job — and no one wants to take 
A man that's been discharged, and let him make 
Another start. Hard word and harder look 
Is all he gets, as if he was a crook, 
As if he'd done some great and awful wrong. 
And so he walks the street the whole day long 
Lookin' for work, yes, beggin' for it, too, 
And everywhere it's "Nothin' here for you." 
While she, up home, is chokin' back the tears, 
Facin' the neighbors' sympathy and sneers, 
Smilin', pretendin' like she doesn't care, 
Poor girl! it's worse for her than me to bear. 

Out of a job — the sun has long been down 
And I'm still rovin' hungry thro' the town, 
Hopeless, and yet I won't give up the search. 
I hear some people singin' in a church; 
We used to go there, Sundavs, she and I, 
But now — I couldn't pray if I should try. 
Churches for them that has the means of grace, 
The street for me that has no workin'-place. 
Poor girl, up home, I wonder what she'd say 
To hear mc talk like that, when just to-day 
She knelt and asked the Lord to guide me fair! 
Brave little woman! Braver' n me, I swear. 



26 JERSEY JINGLES 



STEAM TUGS 

Little Old Men of the Sea, 

Riding the neck of the deep, 
Binding the tide to our will, 

Bending the wind to our keep, 

Braving the wave in its sweep, 
Breasting the storm rolled hill, 

Herding our hunted sheep — 
Little Old Men of the Sea. 

Unmarked by those that lunge along 

To lanes that lead afar, 
The pathless paths we follow strong 

And steer by any star. 
In bight or bay, thro' kill or cove, 

On sound or open sea, 
Where traffic waits and toil we rove, 

Ourselves our masters, free ! 

In howling night off Montauk light 

When barges break their bonds, 
'Tis ours to find, 'tis ours to fight 

Till every stray responds. 
Past Judith point and Gay Head shoal, 

Past Chatham's reaching hand, 
We crawl to haul the precious coal 

That warms a Northern land. 



THE TOILERS 27 



A week o'er safe and half-world vaults 

The liner spends her speed, 
Then helpless in the harbor halts 

And calls to us to lead. 
We push, we pull, we turn and tug, 

With scream of pygmy mirth, 
Till, linked and lashed and sound and snug, 

She sleeps within her berth. 

The freighter, big with golden stores, 

Heads heavy toward the land, 
She stumbles at the harbor doors 

And wallows in the sand. 
By day and night along her sides 

In breaking seas we bob, 
And trick at last the lifting tides 

That wander there to rob. 

Busy and bold are we, 

Herding our hunted sheep, 
Binding the tide to our will, 

Bending the wind to our keep, 

Braving the wave in its sweep, 
Breasting the storm rolled hill, 

Riding the neck of the deep — 
Little Old Men of the Sea! 



28 JERSEY JINGLES 



MARY'S CHANCE 

She isn't long on pretty looks, I s'pose; 
Her face is red and freckled, and her nose 
Is awful snub — but that's the general rule 
With kids that lead their classes in the school. 
Smart? Well, I guess! There ain't a boy in town, 
Or girl, either, can spell our Mary down; 
And more she knows about the Rule of Three 
Than any grown man in the factory. 

She studies evenin's doin' sums and such, 
Wishin' her brothers wouldn't talk so much; 
And I set readin' items, slow as glue, 
Till Mary says, c< Now, dad, I'll read to you; 
Your eyes are poor" — that's just her joke, you see- 
And then I have the paper read to me 
In proper style, you bet, and every word 
As clear as any bell you ever heard. 

Her fav'rite teacher came to call last night 
And told us what a hopeful child and bright 
Our Mary is, and how her studious ways 
Are sure some dav to win her worlds of praise ; 
And how we ought to swell with pride, and try 
To send her on to High School. And said I, 
"Miss Brown, there ain't a lock made anywhere, 
Can keep our little daughter out of there. ' ' 



THE TOILERS 29 



It's mighty hard to know that all you know 

Can't help you in the battle here below — 

To feel that you can travel just so far, 

And not a single step beyond the bar. 

I've found it out — I'm one that can't advance, 

Because I never had a lift or chance. 

But now it's Mary's turn, and bless her heart, 

Our daughter's goin' to have a better start. 



SENTIMENT AND SHOP 

There stands his desk, unopened, as it's stood the fort- 
night through, 
Half hidden under papers, with his well-loved books askew, 
While dust has taken hold on all — and here, alone, are you. 

You've seen him there bent low at work thro' many a 

weary week, 
Your brother in the bond of toil, with slowly paling cheek, 
Silent and patient; and perhaps you seldom thought to 

speak. 

You know the leaden lesson of the world's great, moiling 

mart, 
That sentiment and sordid shop are better kept apart; 
But can you view that vacant desk without a twinge at 

heart ? 



3° 



JERSEY JINGLES 



GRAMMAR AND GOODNESS 

A half of life I seen, my son, 
And half my earthly toil I done, 
Before you ever looked upon 

The light of day, 
Or done a turn for any one 

To pay your way. 




When you were still a babe in cart 

I toiled and toiled, thro' pain and smart, 

For you. And why? 'Cause in my heart 

(It's in there yet), 
I wanted you to have the start 

I didn't get. 

Who taught you how to say your prayers? 
Do you suppose the good Lord cares 
If, nights, I cry in speech that errs, 
"Thy will be did"? 



THE TOILERS 31 



Is grammar first in heaven's affairs, 
And goodness hid? 

All sorts of men I've met along, 

And most lacked schooling in the throng. 

Yet some I've knowed, whose hearts were strong, 

Said, "I have saw," 
And many a one whose feet went wrong 

Was great at jaw. 

It does me good to see you've won 

Such fine, grand eddication, son; 

But more you'll know before you've run 

Your journey thro' : 
That some who say, " I seen," " I done," 

Are good as you. 



WAGES 

Young Willie was a lightsome lad 
Who laughed about his work. 

A good report he never had ; 
In fact, he liked to shirk. 

Fernando was a sober boy 

Who ne'er indulged in song, 

For naught whatever gave him joy 
But toiling all day long. 



32 JERSEY JINGLES 

At ten a week poor Willie stayed 
Through all his happy years, 

And, feeling more than amply paid, 
He laughed and saved his tears. 

Fernando rose to wage sublime, 

Drew hundreds per; was sore; 

Felt undervalued all the time 
And ever kicked for more. 

The moral in our humble lay 
You readily may find : 

How fine to have Fernando' s pay 
And Willie's frame of mind! 



HIS SIDE PARTNER 

Days when the factory room is hot 
I get so blue I'd soon be fired as not. 
When everything goes wrong, an' no excuse. 
I fall to wonderin' what's the earthly use 
Of grindin', grindin' on from day to day, 
Of hopin' I can ever get more pay, 
A-goin' on this way. 

Them wheels, a-whirrin' round an' round, 
Get in my head. I hate the sight, the sound, 
The smell of work. I think how many men, 
Not half as good as me, get twice again 



THE TOILERS 33 

As much to live on, how they spend an' dress 
An' sneer at me, so hungry for success — 
An' then I think of Jess ! 

She knows how hard it is to work; 
It ain't no snap, up there where she's a clerk. 
An' when I think how patient through the days, 
How hopeful, cheerful, brave an' sweet she stays, 
I feel like thirty cents for growlin' so; 
An' after that you folks'll never know 
How smooth the work does go. 



HEAD-WINDS 

When skies are cloudy, don't you fret; 

Steer steady on, right through the haze. 
There never was a voyage yet 

That didn't have some sunny days. 

There's hope for every man that sails. 

Remember, when the head-winds blow, 
If rightlv met, those very gales 

Will take you where you want to go, 



"THE BEATEN BREEDS" 

" The Beaten Breeds ' ' — a sorry sneer 
At those poor races harboring here 
From Old World hate and hounding fear. 



34 JERSEY JINGLES 

Tried in the furnace fires of creeds, 
Hammered, like gold, for kingship's needs — 
Metal for good, the Beaten Breeds ! 



WANTED 

I'm looking for a country home with roses in the path, 
With six or eight steam-heated rooms, a screen porch and 

a bath, 
I want a garden fair to see, a gently babbling brook, 
An arbor where to rest at ease and read the latest book. 
Perhaps you know of such a place at reasonable rate — 
Say, thirty dollars for the year — B. J., 248. 

I'm searching for a boarding-house, where folks are never 

proud, 
Where no one tells of better days or trys to bluff the 

crowd ; 
The boarders must be courteous, the serving staff refined, 
My bed of softest eiderdown, the food of choicest kind, 
The price two dollars weekly, maybe half a dollar more ; 
Address, inclosing reference, B. J., 244. 

Although a man of leisure now, I'm willing to be placed 

In some position suitable to one of nurtured taste, 

A situation not confining, 10 till 2, perhaps, 

With leave to go abroad each year, an hour at noons for 

naps, 
And salary commensurate with merit such as mine, 
Send offers stamped and closely sealed — B. J., 249. 



THE TOILERS 35 



FRIENDS 

There are no friends, we often say, 

Like those dear friends we knew of yore. 

Thus in our hearts we re-survey 
The path we tread no more. 

And so, before the journey ends, 

We'll take a backward look and vow 

There were no friends like these good friends 
That walk beside us now. 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 



Bewrxd tke MoxirJhiix 




LONELY 

Haven't seen a rainbow 

Since I came to town; 
Haven't seen a dew-drop 

In a daisy crown ; 
Haven't seen a sunset 

Or the break of day — 
Never knew I liked those things 

Till I ran away. 

Hills and woods in Sussex, 

Lake and shady brook, 
When I used to live there 

I never cared to look. 
Streets of stone, walls of brick, 

Nothing else to-day — 
If I'd go back, I wonder 

What the folks would say. 



4 o JERSEY JINGLES 



THE COUNTRY CHURCH 

The country churches are slowly passing away. — Editorial. 

Our old church isn't what it was in days of long ago, 

Its doors stand wide and welcoming, the bell turns to and 

fro, 
But few there be that enter now, and they low bent and 

slow. 

Upon the grass-grown walk to-day no glad young footsteps 

ring, 
The voice of happy childhood is silent when we sing ; 
What little friend comes early, a vase of flowers to bring? 

To manhood grown and womanhood, and tempted far 

away 
To wider fields and fairer folds, still are they here to-day, 
For we, amid the vacant pews, remember when we pray. 



HALF-SAINTS 

Women-folks imperfect, 

Same way with the men; 

But you can't expect perfection 
In threescore years and ten. 

There's a heavenly home provided 
For every worthy saint ; 

We'd all of us be saintly, 

But most of us, we ain't. 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 



4i 



We have to do the best we can 
And let it go at that; 

And if we fail a mansion 

We can maybe rent a flat. 



THE 'VANGELIST 




He ain't much good at grammar, 
His schoolin' 's none at all, 

But when he starts to hammer, 
My ! how the sinners crawl ! 

He doesn't charm the ladies 
Or set their eyes a-roll ; 

He preaches fire an' Hades 
An' harrers up the soul. 



42 JERSEY JINGLES 

He's never writ a story 

Or printed of a book, 

But he points a path to glory 
That cannot be mistook. 

He's right down on the level, 
We feel him close an' near, 

An' he saves me from the devil 
Reg'lar, once a year. 



THE DIVIDED CHURCH 

What started the row? Well, I fergit; 
But all of a sudden the church was split, 
The deacons were callin' the pastor names, 
The pastor was preachin' brimstone flames, 
The kids of the Sunday-school stayed away, 
The congregation fergot to pray, 
The sexton loafed an' the organist quit — 
What started the row? Well, I fergit. 

'Twas somethin' or other the preacher said, 

Or somethin' or other a deacon did, 

Or somethin' or other the church choir sang- 

Whatever it was, it started a clang 

An' a clash an' a general bustin' up, 

Till when we passed the sacred cup 

There was hardlv a man would quench his thirst, 

'Cause somebody else had sipped there first. 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 43 

There never was drearier days, I guess, 

Nor ever a flock so comfortless; 

But now the trouble is done an' past 

An* the folks are worshippin' God at last. 

You see, a hurricane swept the town, 

The lightnin' struck, an* the church burned down; 

An' that's what ended the tumble split — 

Though jist what started it I fergit. 



HOME TO JERSEY 

(Lines Composed on a Baggage Truck in the 
hoboken trainshed) 

How many hours ago it seems — 
Ah, Jersey mine, I sigh! — 
Since here, beneath these spreading beams, 

I bade thy shores good-by. 
All day I've wandered, Jersey dear, 

Where buildings scrape the sky, 
And all day long I've yearned to hear 
The glad and welcoming cry : 

" Newark, Roseville and all the Oranges 
on track one ! Dover accommodation on 
track four — Summit the first stop! All 
aboard!" 

Were I in darkest heathen land 
Across the stormy main, 



44 JERSEY JINGLES 

On Nova Zembla's frozen strand 

Or Afric's burning plain, 
My heart would yield to no despair, 

My hope would leap again, 
I'd feel at home 'most anywhere 
To hear that old refrain : 

" Newark, Roseville and all the Oranges 
on track one ! Dover accommodation on 
track four — Summit the first stop! All 
aboard!" 



THOSE SUMMER BOARDERS 
(By the Man Whose Wife Keeps Them) 

I have to hitch the gray mare up an' fetch their trunks an' 

stuff 
Home from the cars, me drivin' there a-harkin' to their guff 
About the "lovely hills so blue" an' "oh, the sparkling 

air!" 
An' all that city tommyrot that makes me want to swear. 

Thev occvpy the porches an' the chairs I like the best, 
They use my shade to loaf in, an' the hammock where I 

rest ; 
They ask me how the fishin' is an' where the pick'rel bite, 
Until I git so goldarn mad I just could up an' fight! 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 



45 



I've got to mop the kitchen floor an' fill the coal-oil lamps 
An' fix the swing an' shoo the flies an' go to town for 

stamps. 
I have to wash their dishes, too, a-feelin' like a chump, 
An' eat my vittles of? a bench beside the cistern pump. 




A prettv state of things, by jing! when men ain't got no 

rights 
Around their homes, an' has to sleep out in the hayloft 

nights ! 
A man's house was his castle once, but 'tisn't so to-day. 
Consarn them boarders, anyway ! That's all I've got to say. 



4 6 JERSEY JINGLES 



ADVERTISING SIGNS 

The church bell sounds the dawn of coming day, 
The homing milkman slaps his horse's lines, 

The sun uprises in the good old way, 
And shows a world of advertising signs. 

Now opes the billboard landscape on the sight 
And all the air is filled with solemn hush 

Save when a painter, busy over night, 

Upon a tombstone flaps his thickened brush; 

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower 
The moping owl doth mournfully complain 

That men have painted on her secret bower, 

" Take Twisted Oil of Tar to Stop that Pain.'' 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap, 

This motto stands, by enterprise displayed : 
" Drink Dopey-dopey if you Want to Sleep. 

Across the vista of this mounded pave 
A legend lifts its wooden head to say : 

"The paths of glory lead but to the grave 

Unless you eat Bran Mash three times a day." 

"From storied urn or animated bust," 
Again we read, in letters giant-high, 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 47 

lt There's nothing better to remove the rust 
Than Chester's Cleano — use it wet or dry." 

Once more: tc Full many a gem of ray serene 
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; 

Don't sigh and pine for such until you've seen 
New Hampshire Diamonds, guaranteed to wear." 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife 
In solitudes of grove and hedge and vine, 

Even in death we're in the midst of life, 
We cannot lose the advertising sign, 

Nor ev'n our bones are able to protect 
From flimsy poster-boards, erected high, 

With uncouth rhymes and shapeless pictures deck'd 
To urge our very ghosts to come and buy. 



THE HOPATCONG PICKEREL 

The pickerel is a hungrv fish, 
His appetite's voracious. 
He'll take most anything vou wish 

Within his maw tenacious. 
Of this I have no doubt at all, 
For I have fed him worms that crawl, 
Minnows of silver, minnows red, 
Herring alive and herring dead, 



48 JERSEY JINGLES 

Pork tenderloin and bacon blubber, 
Frogs from the marsh and frogs of rubber, 
Roast beef and raw beef, lamb and smelts, 
Grasshoppers, leather cut from belts, 
Flannel from shirts, young chicks galore — 
And still he comes around for more. 

The pickerel is an ingrate fish, 
Of manners he has none. 

I like his company, but I wish 
He wouldn't eat and run. 



ROMANCE IN COLD STORAGE 

She wrote her name upon an egg; 

A simple country girl was she. 
"Go, little egg, go forth," she said, 

"And bring a sweetheart back to me." 

Into the wide, wide world it went, 

Upon its shell the message plain. 

The maiden waited, waited on, 

With throbbing heart — but hope was vain. 

The days, the weeks, the months, flew past, 
A year, another year rolled by. 

Alas ! no lover ventured near 

To dry the teardrops in her eye. 

Sad at her casement in the night 

She wondered where the egg could be, 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 49 

u O voiceless moon, dost thou behold, 
Somewhere, my true affinity?" 

Somewhere, indeed, there was a man 

Whom fate had made for her to own; 

Somewhere, and waiting for the egg, 
He led his loveless life alone. 

The years sped on, till gray and bent, 

She looked adown the road one day, 

And, trembling, saw an aged man 

Approaching slowly on the wav. 

His locks were white, his shoulders bowed, 

Feebly he leaned upon a cane. 
She looked — and in her faded cheeks 

The blush of roses glowed again. 

'Twas he, her lover, come at last ! 

"Are you Miss Mary Jones, I pray? 
I found your name upon an egg 

I bought in market yesterday." 

Cheated in youthful life and love, 

Kept parted till the journey's end, 

The evening of their wasted day 

Together sadly now they spend. 

O Egg Trust cold, how many crimes 
Are done in thy disgraceful name? 

Gaze, gaze upon thv cruel work 

And hide thy hydra head in shame ! 



50 



JERSEY JINGLES 



JOYVILLE'S COUNTY FAIR 

Thro' the days of parchin' sunshine, thro' the days of 
drenchin' rain, 

We have wrastled with the meadow-grass, the garden- 
truck and grain, 




,4 4 "u,; 



And at last we're on the journey for to claim our rightful 

share 
Of the glory for the farmer at the Joyville County Fair. 



You that come from out the city for to see the horses race, 
Needn't think you know the pleasures of our county 

meetin' place, 
P'or it's no one but us farmers has the kind of eves to see 
What's the real inside good time of the Joy ville jubilee. 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 51 

Mother brings some canned tomatoes, and they stand 

upon a shelf, 
With her name in printed letters; and the County Judge 

hisself 
Tries a spoonful, tries another, smiles and says he'd like 

to state 
Them's the tastin'est tomattusses a feller ever ate. 

In the Art Hall, where the ladies flock to learn the latest 

stitch, 
Sister's fancy-work exhibit, broidered tablecloths and sich, 
Draws a monstrous crowd of people, and they praise it 

loud and free, 
Till it's all in all the grandest day in sister's history. 

Down among the pens and stables and the heaps of fodder 

corn, 
Daddy's got a speckled heifer with a ribbon on her horn. 
Bud has took the silver medal in the watermelon line, 
And the loudest rooster crowin' in the poultry house is 

mine. 

You may shout about St. Louis and your Pan-Americans, 
With their lakes and lordly buildin's and their camel 

caravans; 
But I'll bet my crowing rooster 'gin your shoelace, if vou 

dare, 
There's not a show on earth can touch our Joyville 

County Fair. 



52 



JERSEY JINGLES 



TWO MILES A MINUTE 

Twomilesaminute, 
Geehowwefly ! 

Swiftasameteor 

Streakingthesky. 




Whatisthatblur? 

Onlythetrees. 
Lookatthemwave, 

Mywhatabreeze ! 

Ahonkandarush, 

Aflashandasmell ; — 
Whatdidwehit? 

Didsomebod well ? 

Ajarandascream — 

Itlookedlikeahorse. 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 53 

Outoftheroad ! 

Giveusashow ! 
Twomilesaminute, 

Geehowwego ! 



THE COUNTRY IS SAFE 

Some folks alius howling 
Speechifyin' grand, 

Say the politicians 

Want to wreck the land. 

That's an allegation 

I deny right now. 

Is the hungry sucklin' calf 
Goin' to kill the cow? 



THE CHRISTMAS BOX 

It is such a little box we send, 

We have not had a lucky year, 

And soon the presents reach an end 

When all of them are gathered here. 

Far in the hills of Sussex-land 

The home folks in their loneliness 

Notellingnow, 

Keeptothecourse. 



54 JERSEY JINGLES 

Are waiting. They will understand ; 

They know we love them none the less. 

This first, the mother's only gift, 

A shawl to match her silvery hair; 
In days of storm and heaping drift 

'Twill warm her dear heart beating there. 
We wish 'twere finer — ah, but why? 

She knows our love; we need not add, 
If love could buy as love would buy, 

Like any queen should she be clad. 

And these for father, bless his heart ! 

A pair of boots so warm and stout 
The cold of Greenland they would thwart, 

Or keep a mountain freshet out. 
And when he tramps the muddy lane 

And hears their clumping in the wet, 
" With our best love," they'll speak again, 

And in his heart he'll not forget. 

And here's the baby's picture last, 

Poor, but they'll prize it, anyhow 
(The little fellow grows so fast 

His grandma'd hardly know him now); 
Perhaps, when summer breezes blow 

And skies once more are bright and blue, 
We'll all go home, and thev shall know 

Their own wee grandchild loves them, too. 



BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN 55 

It's such a little box to send 

To those whose love we count so dear, 
Yet, after all, it holds no end 

Of happiness and Christmas cheer; 
And they, up there in Sussex-land, 

And we that dwell so far away 
Shall seem together, hand in hand, 

In thought and love on Christmas Day. 



SUMMER'S END 

To A. E. B. M. 
Hushed are the birds that lately thrilled 

The morning world with melody. 
At eventide their songs are stilled — 

What can this woodland silence be? 

High in a hammock, zephyr-swung, 
Low in a locust's thorny bough, 

Deep in a dell, the reeds among, 

The birds have better business now. 

Let summer end, and o'er the hill 

The sylvan chorus sounds again; 

Robin and thrush and bluebird thrill 

This message to the hearts of men : 

" Though April hopes be memories, 
'Tis small content regret can give. 

Put grieving by ! Enough it is 

To live and love, to love and live." 



AROUND THE CIRCLE 




BULLETINS 

Sun's a-shinin' overhead, 

Sod an' stream unchainin'. 

Spider spins a silky thread 
Just to get in trainin'. 

Maple tree is buddin' red, 
Sap is fairly b'ilin'. 

Vi'let's settin' up in bed, 

Lookin' round an' smilin', 



APRIL 

Winter clouds are long forgot, 

Everywhere the green things climb 

Seems as if the year has been 
Summer all the time. 



60 JERSEY JINGLES 

SPRING MUSIC 

I hear the robin piping in the barnyard maple tree, 
The bluebird from the meadow sends a gentle melody; 
Across the vale the rumble sounds of new electric ploughs; 
Anon there comes the lowing of the automatic cows, 
And here and there on every hand the motor harrows ring 
The dear and gladsome tidings of the coming of the Spring. 

IN MAY 

Hangin' 'round the window where they show the fishin' 

tackle, 
Bamboo rod an' shiny reel an trollin' spoon an' hackle, 
Hangin' 'round an' gazin' — 
Ain't it just amazin' 
How a sight o' fishin' goods 
Draws a feller toward the woods? 



THE MORNING LIGHT 

Cherry-tree, all white and showy, 
Came in blossom in the night; 

Bare at sunset, pure and snowy 
In the morning light. 

So do troubles, hard to carry 

In the wearv heart at night, 

Bloom with hope, just like the cherry, 
In the morning light. 



AROUND THE CIRCLE 61 

SPRING FEVER 

When I decide to work some 

I sit a while and think some; 
And oh, my task is irksome, 

And oh, my thumbs are inksome ! 

JUNE ROSES 

Where is loss in lowly birth? 

Where the woe that riches cure? 
Fairest roses known to earth 

Grow in gardens of the poor. 

SUMMER STARLIGHT 

The worlds, the suns, the myriad orbs 

That sparkle thro' the midnight pall, 

Are but the microcosmic dust 

Of one great Sun, transcending all. 

The friendships and the loves of earth, 

Best jewels in our treasure-trove, 
Are but the glinting diamond dust 

Of that surpassing gem, God's love. 

INDIAN SUMMER 

Sumach blushin' rosy red, 

Far-off mountains faint — 
Summer's gettin' old and worn 

And usin' veils and paint. 



62 JERSEY JINGLES 



OCTOBER 

Hush! Summer's dead. The trees send down 
Their wealth of leaves upon the pave, 

Spreading a carpet through the town 

To dull our tread to summer's grave. 



BONFIRE TIME 

Spendthrifts are we, whose heedless hold 

Spills Fortune's cup. 
When Autumn sends us down her gold 

We burn it up. 



TWILIGHT 

Twilight in the trees 

On a still November day, 
Twilight in the trees, 

And the world all gray. 

Twilight in a life, 

The colors faded and gone, 
Twilight in a life, 

And the night comes on. 






AROUND THE CIRCLE 



°3 




DAWN IN NOVEMBER 

The fence is white and ghostly in the light of early dawn, 
The silent frost has spread a quilt of silver on the lawn, 
A thousand clacking blackbirds are waking in the wood, 
And a rabbit roves the garden patch, gleaning his breakfast 
food. 



AFFINITY 

Apart we walk ; our eyes have never met, 
Our wandering ways have never crossed — and vet, 
Some day, some thankful day, our lives shall be 
United fast, my own affinitv ! 

Yes, in my soul I know, and ask not why, 
That we shall get together, vou and I, 
And I shall eat you, drumsticks, wings and all, 
And hang your fair white wishbone on the wall. 



64 JERSEY JINGLES 



MISERY IN COMPANY 

The cornstalks, shocked, to one another cling, 
Their leafy withered arms embracing swing 
In the cold blast. Thus shall December weather 
Find them defenseless, perishing together. 



ALWAYS 

Always new life 

In the cold, drifted lawn; 
Always new flowers 

When winter is gone. 

Always a smile 

For the tear you have shed ; 
Always a hope 

For the hope that is dead. 

Always an end 

To the weariest lane; 
Always a blessing, 

Whatever the pain. 






u£C 



23 190 



r» 



